


brandeis blue - nsfw

by rosielibrary



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Chubby Ford, F/M, Fluff, Sex, it's part of the request ok let me live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 22:47:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16841974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosielibrary/pseuds/rosielibrary
Summary: two words: chubby ford smut. wait that's three(DFAB smut, uses she/her pronouns)(word of warning: this fic is from 2015 and unedited!)





	brandeis blue - nsfw

Stanford Pines was a six-fingered genius who was obsessed with the paranormal, the supernatural, and, most importantly, the weird. You admired that about him, along with a few other things.

The only problem was that he was your best friend’s brother.

Stanley had introduced you when you’d come to visit him, finding that not only did they live together, but it was technically Stanford’s house, what with the papers scattered about and the overall geeky air to the little cabin. The twins were near enough identical, except Stanford was a little rounder than his well-built brother, with thick glasses and a messy mop of dark hair while Stanley’s was clean-cut. You didn’t quite know how they got along as well as they did, even with the few spats every now and then.

Stanford kept his distance from you, but you made an effort to talk to him every time you visited Stanley, asking about his work. He’d gradually opened up more about his studies, showing you his drawings of the creatures he’d found in the Gravity Falls woods. You doubted that those sorts of things lived in your sleepy hometown, but Stanford insisted, demanding that you come with him immediately to find one of these creatures to show you that he was right, even with the sun ducking behind the silhouettes of the pine trees outside. His arrogance made you huff but you agreed to be “proven wrong”, making a bet with him that if he couldn’t find anything to show you, he’d have to do whatever you decided your prize would be (you hadn’t exactly thought that through yet). Ford agreed to those terms, saying that if he did find something, however, you’d have to do the same thing. You shook on it, and Ford lead you out of his house and towards the woods.

He decided that to show you that yes, Gravity Falls was stuffed full of odd things despite you having never, ever seen one, that you needed to see something so amazingly weird and wonderful that you’d probably fall over or something, he told you as the two of you walked. You hopped over a fallen tree and said that sure, brainiac (you’d started giving him the same nicknames Stan teased him with out of habit), your entire life would change once you saw this one peculiar thing– as long as you didn’t fall over something in the dark first. Ford offered a hand to help you down a steep hill and you take it, his six fingers between your five something peculiar indeed.

He stopped in front of a cave near the base of the mountain and turned to you, putting a finger to his lips before he pulled you inside. You tiptoed behind him until the entrance of the cave was a navy dot in the distance, Ford’s form enveloped in darkness.

But then he knocked on the cave wall, and, true to his word, you almost fell over.

You were both illuminated by a fluorescent light above your heads caused by thousands of creatures you’d never seen before. They appeared to be a mixture between moths and fireflies, but they were solid blue when they lit up and fluttered around the cave, inspecting the two of you. One sat in your hair and another on your shoulder, and you laughed at Ford, who was watching you with some sort of dopey smile on his face, with three of them perched along the top edge of his book.

“Fire Moths,” Ford explained, nodding to the flurry of them that flew out the cave entrance in the distance. “Some sort of hybrid moth, but instead of just one light like fireflies, their entire bodies glow blue.”

“They’re beautiful,” you smiled, letting the Fire Moth atop your head trot onto your finger. “I love the color.”

“Do you believe me now?” Ford laughed and shook his head, the three months flying outside the cave.

“I do, I do!” He beamed at you as you watched the remaining moths escaped, leaving only one on your hand. Ford stepped forward to examine the creature in further detail, without noticing your red face in the dim light.

“They’re just fascinating, aren’t they? An incredible shade of blue, and they seem to glow when they’re– when they’re happy.”

Ford faltered when he looked up to you, and the Fire Moth flew past your shoulder and outside, which left the two of you in pitch black once more.

“Where’d you go?” You joked, groping in the dark until you found his arm. Fingertips traced up to his shoulder, along his collarbone, and to his cheek, which fit in the palm of your hand almost perfectly. Ford was silent, but you heard his breath hitch.

“Stanley will be wondering where we are,” Ford mumbled, but your opposite hand took his, which stopped any thought he had of moving.

“I’m sure he can wait a little longer,” you said softly, and with a quick tug of his shirt collar, you kissed him gently, feeling him stiffen, startled, before he returned it in full force. His arm snaked around your waist and his chest pressed against yours, your hand combing through his messy hair. He was sloppy, but surprisingly good despite that, even if Stan teased him about his virginal pureness almost every day. What you wouldn’t give to corrupt that.

But that was a thought for another time.

You pulled away with a slight pop, giggling when Ford tried to follow your head away, and you wound your arms around his neck.

“I don’t think Stan would be too happy if we told him we got occupied in a cave,” you told him, and he let his head drop to your shoulder with a sigh.

“But you believe me about–?”

You gave a sharp tug to the hair on the back of his head and Ford yelped, jumping up and rubbing the sore spot.

“That’s what you get, brainiac,” you laughed, standing on your toes and you kissed him once more. He leaned into you for the fleeting moment, but you let go and started walking out towards the cave mouth with a skip in your step.

“Come on, then! You said Stan was waiting for us, and I don’t know the way back by myself.”

Ford’s frustration could be felt for the entire walk back to his house, and when Stan asked where you’d been, you told him you lost a bet, and Ford almost dropped his book. Had he forgotten?

— — —

When Stan stopped drilling the two of you for details, waggling his brows at his brother, he left to his own room, muttering about needing sleep. Once he was out of earshot, you felt a finger beneath your chin that tilted your head up, and Ford’s dark eyes met yours.

“You lost the bet,” he said lowly; his gaze dropped to your mouth as your tongue dragged against your bottom lip. “And I figured out what I want my prize to be.”

There was something feral about the way he looked at you, something you’d never have expected from the dorky guy who blushed whenever you’d so much have said his name. You let out a shaky breath, determined to not be outdone, and your fingers curled into his belt loops, the epitome of innocence on your face.

“Ah, you did?” You blinked at him once, twice. “And what would that be, Stanford?”

You were about to find out. Ford grabbed your wrist and led you to a door you’d never been through before, and you quickly figured out it was his room when he clicked the door shut with his foot. Almost instantaneously, his hands were around your hips, yours in his hair, and the liplock wasn’t as sweet as your first. It’s needy and desperate and wow, his belt’s hard to get off, but his hands were under your shirt and exploring within seconds. So much for what Stan thought of him.

He busied himself with unbuttoning your shirt as you fiddled with his belt, pulling it from the loops and letting it clunk to the floor. Thankfully Stan’s room was downstairs, so he probably thought Ford dropped a book or something. Ford pushed your shirt off your shoulders and you shimmied out of it, tossed it over your shoulder and went to grab his, but he stopped you, the moment paused.

“I, uh…"

“It’s okay,” you murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Do you not want me to take it off?”

“I mean, I do! But it’s just… I’m not as muscular as Stanley is, so I didn’t know if you would still want to—!“

He was cut off by you taking his face in your hands, and he looked so much like a kicked puppy you almost wanted to forget everything and just hug him forever. Almost.

“I don’t care what Stan looks like under his shirt, Ford. I like you, not him—“

His face flushed a bright red at that.

“— So it’s alright if you’re not as buff as he is. He burps too much, anyway.”

Ford laughed nervously, and you brought him forward to kiss him again. He loosened against your touch and you guided him backwards onto his sofa, sitting on his lap (you had to cover his mouth at the loud moan that broke through the silence when you did that) and pulling his shirt up and off.

“Are you sure about this?” Ford whispered, the primal gaze replaced with worry. You nodded, standing up to take your jeans off, and Ford watched you intently, swallowing thickly. You kicked yours off your ankle and got to work on his, straddling his lap once you’re both down to your “skivvies”, as he called them, making you laugh against his neck. He sighed against your light kisses, but you bit down and his nails dug into your back, dragging furrows into your skin as they traveled down your spine to your underwear. Ford got brave and reached down, rubbing your clit somewhat curiously, but he was definitely impressed with your reaction when you moaned into his ear, your breath hot on his neck.

“Condom,” you stated, and Ford jumped to attention, letting you get off of him before he stood and went to his dresser, pulling out a box, and then the rubber in question.

“Stanley got me some for my birthday,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Of course he did,” you grinned. Ford fumbled for a minute trying to figure out how to unwrap it and you held out a hand for him, which he delicately placed the condom onto.

“C’mere.”

Ford perched on the edge of the sofa at your side, and you pushed him down gently, getting on top of him. You help him slide his boxers off and you ripped the condom wrapper open with your teeth, pulling it out and looking down at... well.

You’d seen worse. This was going to be interesting.

The scientist tried not to buck into your touch when you rolled it on, but once you’d finished, he sat back up, nodding down at you with a raised brow behind his glasses.

“Oh, right.” You were still somewhat clothed— he hadn’t the confidence to take anything more than your shirt off. Unclipping your bra with one hand and pulling your underwear off with the other, you felt very exposed at his side, but Ford looked somewhat dazzled by you as he pushed you down onto the sofa (“You’ve done all the work, let me try”, he’d said), adjusting himself above you before he (thankfully, slowly) slid into you.

Both of you held your breath until Ford started moving, and he groaned loudly, which you quickly muffled by grabbing his chin and kissing him hard, your other hand finding an anchor in his shoulder. Your nails dug into his skin as he sped up, both of your noises of pleasure muted by bitten lips and quick kisses to shut the other up, knowing full well Stanley was downstairs, possibly asleep, possibly not. It turned you on to think about getting caught, along with the fact that Ford was almost whimpering your name against your lips, strewn in with quite a few curse words you’d never heard the nerd say before.

Your hands took both of his and he threaded your fingers together, his glasses askew on his nose. He didn’t last much longer after you’d started saying his name and he came with a stifled moan, his hands squeezing yours hard as he slowed to a stop. As soon as he realized you hadn’t, however, he pulled out and ducked between your legs, and with a surprisingly adept tongue, went down on you until you did, covering your own mouth to stop the almost shriek (you’d never been that loud before) that threatened to wake the entire town with his name in their ears.

Once you’d calmed down from your high, you asked him between heavy breaths how he was so good at that. With a careful push of his glasses up his nose, he replied that he’d studied it so he’d know how to satisfy his partner, even if he didn’t need to. You stared at him for a good minute, and he turned to you, trying to keep his gaze at yours and not any farther south.

“Beginner’s luck.”

You laughed at that, scooted over to him and leaned your head on his shoulder. His odd sofa-instead-of-a-bed situation didn’t make room for two people unless you were upright, so Ford made somewhat of a makeshift bed on the floor out of the cushions and far too many blankets for one person to own. Not that you were complaining— he had more than enough body warmth for you to be comfortable, his arm around your middle and his chest moving in and out against your back.

When Stanley came upstairs the next morning, he woke you up with the shout of “I told you she had the hots for you, Ford, you owe me ten dollars.“


End file.
